Tragic Love
by CaitlinMF
Summary: Clark Kent's life was torn apart when the love of his life was in a serious accident. Now blaming himself, can Clark get through the hard times while waiting to see if his wife will ever wake up? *Futurefic*


Title: Tragic Love  
  
Author: Caitlin  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Pairing: Clark/Lana  
  
Genre: Drama/Angst - FutureFic  
  
Feedback: Yes, please! Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor any of the characters involved. They are purely property of the WB and DC comics and all those other important people I wish I could be  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Where is she?" the man yelled as he rushed through the emergency room doors.  
  
"Where is who, sir?"  
  
"My wife, Lana Kent - the ambulance brought her here," the man continued, as he rapidly searched around the room, which was quickly filling with people distraught over the recent happenings.  
  
"I don't know for sure, sir. If you could just tell me your name," the nurse said to him.  
  
"Clark, Clark Kent. I need to know if she's okay. They wouldn't let me come here with her," Clark stated.  
  
"Mr. Kent, can you please take a seat over there with the others. Someone will inform you when they have information about your wife. It's best if you stay calm," the nurse told Clark politely, before she turned and continued with her previous duties.  
  
Clark walked slowly over to the waiting area of Smallville Medical Center's emergency room. He found no more available seats, but he didn't care now. He would stand for eternity if it meant she would be fine - she would live. Clark glanced solemnly around the hectic room in which he now stood. Residents were huddled together in small groups throughout. Some not saying a word; some crying; others demanding answers from the hospital's staff just as Clark had been.  
  
'How?' Clark thought to himself, 'How could this have happened? Everything was supposed to be perfect,'  
  
***  
  
"We're losing her!"  
  
"We need the defibrillator, now!"  
  
"Doctor, she's losing too much blood - we may not be able to do this,"  
  
"Well we at least have to try. Hand me the paddles . . . ready . . . clear!"  
  
The young woman's spine went rigid, and the doctors watched the monitor. Nothing changed.  
  
***  
  
"Clark! We got here as fast as we could. Are you alright?"  
  
Clark lifted his head up off of his chest to match a face to the voice he heard.  
  
"I'm fine mom; it's her I'm worried about," Clark stated.  
  
"Oh, honey - I'm so sorry," Martha Kent said soothingly to her son, wrapping her arms around his solid frame.  
  
"What exactly happened, Clark?" Jonathan Kent questioned, after he watched his son and wife separate.  
  
"I'm not all too sure. We were just walking along the street when suddenly there was an explosion. I tried to shelter her from the flames and debris, but I couldn't get to her in time. I should've gotten there faster. I should've protected her. I -- " Clark began, but was cut off by his father.  
  
"Son, don't beat yourself up over it. It was not your fault, you hear me? It's not your fault. You did your best, and we're proud of you," Jonathan told him, as he squeezed Clark's shoulder reassuringly.  
  
"Yeah, but . . ." Clark started.  
  
"No, sweetie. No buts this time," Martha told him, looking straight into his pain-filled eyes.  
  
"Excuse me, are you Clark Kent?" a voice interrupted the family's conversation.  
  
"Yes, that is I," Clark replied, as the three of them turned to face the doctor who had approached them.  
  
"I'm Dr. Klein. We have an update on your wife. Can I speak to you for a moment?" the male doctor asked.  
  
"Whatever you have to tell me, my parents can hear as well. Go on," Clark told him.  
  
"Okay, well your wife was brought in with very serious injuries. We had a bit of a struggle at first, but we are keeping her in stable condition to the best of our capabilities. She suffered a serious blow to the head, and has a few internal injuries which we repaired the best we could, as well as a fractured arm." Dr. Klein informed them.  
  
"But she's going to be okay, right?" Clark asked quizzically.  
  
"We are unsure at this time, but we're doing our best at the moment - I promise you that." The doctor said with a very determined, professional look on his middle-aged face.  
  
"Thank you, doctor," Martha commented, with a small, forced smile.  
  
"May I see her?" Clark questioned hopefully.  
  
"Yes, you may. But only you - she's being kept in the ICU, so immediate family only. You can follow me," Dr. Klein told him.  
  
"Okay. Clark, your father and I are going to go back to the farm for a bit. We'll come back later to check up on you and her, alright?" Martha said to her son.  
  
"Kay, Mom. I love you," Clark replied  
  
"I love you too sweetie - we both do," Martha said, grabbing her husband's hand and walking towards the exit.  
  
"Shall we go?" Clark said to the doctor.  
  
"Yes, come with me," Dr. Klein answered, then walked over to the elevators with Clark in tow.  
  
Up on the 4th floor, Clark continued to follow Dr. Klein through an unfamiliar wing of the hospital. After checking in at a front desk, the doctor led Clark down a sterile and spookily silent corridor. He stopped at a doorway, where Dr. Klein handed a blue gown, cap, and shoe covers to Clark. After putting the garments on, Clark was allowed to step into the room. There were a two rows of beds lining the long room. Nurses and doctors quietly walked around, looking over charts and checking on the critical patients lying in the beds. The smell in the room was of disinfectant, medications, and . . . sorrow. Clark had to force his legs to move forward and continue to follow the doctor.  
  
The two stopped at a curtained-off bed in the unit. Dr. Klein slowly pulled back the tall curtains, revealing to Clark the object of his affection. His wife. All Clark was able to utter was a soft; "Lana . . ."  
  
Her hand felt cool enveloped within his large hands. He watched the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest with each breath. Holding back his tears, Clark remembered back to a fairly similar occurrence not too long ago.  
  
~~flashback~~  
  
'She's beautiful . . . the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on,' he thought to himself. With his head resting on the pillow opposite hers, Clark reached out his hand to brush a stray lock of long raven hair from her forehead. Lana mumbled something incoherently in her sleep, and a small smile crossed her delicate face.  
  
It was a warm, June night. Clark and Lana had been just recently let out of Metropolis University for the summer, for which they then decided to go back to their quaint home in Smallville. They now lay in bed together; Lana fast asleep and Clark quietly watching her.  
  
"I love you, Lana," Clark whispered, placing a gentle, soft kiss upon her head, then burying his face in her silky locks.  
  
"Love you too, Clark," Lana whispered back to him, before both returned to their sleeping state.  
  
~~end of flashback~~  
  
"I love you, Lana. Please . . . come back to me," Clark begged, then resting his head on his arms, still holding Lana's hand in his own.  
  
***  
  
Martha Kent stared into her cup of tea, stirring the liquid absentmindedly with a spoon. With a sigh, she removed the spoon from the mug, and placed it on the wooden kitchen table.  
  
"Jonathan . . ."  
  
"Martha . . ."  
  
The husband and wife spoke at the same time.  
  
"You go first," Jonathan Kent told her, from his place at the table to her right.  
  
"I'm worried about Clark. Lana too, but Clark . . ." she trailed off.  
  
Jonathan took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "I know you are, Martha. Me too. But he's strong. Remember that," he said to her.  
  
"Yes, but he's so utterly devoted to her. Not that I blame him - he had his eye on her since they were children. But I can't even imagine what it would do to him if she was to . . . if she was to . . . Oh, Jonathan," Martha said exasperated, letting her head hang forward.  
  
"We can't think like that. We have to have faith that Lana will pull through. We have to be strong for Clark - he's going to need us," Jonathan told his wife.  
  
"I know that, but . . ." Martha started, but was unable to continue, for her tears began flowing for the umpteenth time since they had arrived back at the farm after leaving the hospital.  
  
Seeing his wife break down, Jonathan moved to her side and wrapped her small frame in his arms.  
  
"Shhh . . . shhh . . . everything's going to be alright - you'll see," he said to her soothingly.  
  
A few minutes later, Martha finally raised her head and looked into her husband's face. "We should call Nell in Metropolis. She'll want to know what has happened to her niece," Martha commented.  
  
"Yes, I'll do that. You sit here and finish your tea, okay?" Jonathan replied. Gently squeezing her hand once more, he rose and went to the phone. Preparing himself for what the news he was about to deliver to his former fling.  
  
***  
  
'This shouldn't be happening. No, it can't be happening. Today was our day. It was not supposed to be like this. Why? . . . Why Lana?' Clark spoke in his mind, before remembering back to earlier that very day.  
  
~~flashback~~  
  
"What a beautiful day it is, today. Isn't it, Clark?" Lana said with a cheery smile as the couple walked along Main Street. And a beautiful day it was. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping gleefully, kids were running around in their yards, and happy families were strolling along with not a care in the world.  
  
"Very beautiful. Perfect even - just like you," Clark replied, his bright, make-you-weak-in-the-knees, smile shining vibrantly.  
  
A small blush crept across Lana's face. Only sweet, wonderful Clark Kent could make her feel as such. "Thanks - you're not too bad yourself, Mr. Kent," she answered.  
  
"Not too bad! Aw, I'm hurt, Lana - really," Clark said, wearing a look of mock-hurt on his flawless face.  
  
"Oh, toughen up, big guy. You know I'd love you whether you were the most ugly person on this planet, or the most handsome," Lana replied, smiling at their loving banter.  
  
"Good, because I love you too. Happy Anniversary, Lana," Clark said sweetly, as they stopped under a large tree, which shaded them from the hot, Kansas sun.  
  
"Happy Anniversary, Clark. Three whole years - I don't believe it," she replied smiling.  
  
"Yeah, who would've known that marrying you was the best decision I ever made," Clark answered.  
  
"Everyone had their doubts. Us being only 18 and all - but there's not a moment that goes by that I don't regret saying 'I Do' to you, Clark," she said, stepping closer to him.  
  
"Me neither," Clark told her quietly, before leaning down and capturing her lips in his own. Both were oblivious to the hushed comments coming from onlookers. It was young love, after all.  
  
Moments later, the two separated, each lost in one-another's eyes.  
  
"I need to go quickly pick something up to add to your surprise gift. I'll only be a minute, so stay here alright?" Clark told her.  
  
"What is it? Please, can't I come?" Lana asked.  
  
"It wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?" Clark replied, raising wiggling his brow.  
  
"Oh, fine. But hurry back - I can't stand waiting for my man for too long," Lana answered, playfully.  
  
"Be right back," Clark said, turning to walk across the street. But he quickly turned back and ran over to Lana.  
  
"Forgot something," he whispered, gently placing a soft kiss on her lips. After breaking apart, the twosome smiled, then Clark ran off again into a store.  
  
Lana was left to wander around the storefronts, gazing in at the summer displays. She was looking in the antique store at a display of shiny, glass figurines, when she heard screams. Curiously turning around, Lana saw people running out of the bookstore next door.  
  
"Everyone get down!" a man yelled out.  
  
'What on earth?' Lana thought to herself. Before she could ponder any longer, there was a loud, booming sound.  
  
Across the street, Clark had just finished paying for the item for Lana. He was slipping it into his pocket when he heard the man yell out and what was the beginning of a fuse crackling down with his super-hearing. Remembering his wife, he raced out the door to see people running out of the bookstore across the road. Seeing an explosion begin, he spotted Lana and super-sped with all his might to where she was standing, hoping to get there before the blast reached her. He jumped, protectively pushing her down, as the flames enveloped the crowd right outside the store.  
  
Silence was instilled upon the street, and except for the crackling of the fire, there was nothing. Shaking his head, Clark rose from on top of Lana, and checked on her.  
  
"Lana? Lana, can you hear me?" Clark asked, worriedly. She didn't respond. Taking a closer look, Clark saw she had no burns, but was unconscious.  
  
"Oh, no - oh god, no . . ." he said, looking up to see not a single other person standing - everyone was down on the ground, and faint screams could be heard in the distance.  
  
~~end of flashback~~  
  
Reaching into his pocket now, Clark pulled out the small gift bag, and removed the tiny velvet-covered box from it. He slowly opened the box, revealing a beautiful bracelet. Taking the bracelet from its case, Clark gently took Lana's right wrist and carefully clasped the bracelet on. The bracelet was a simple, yet elegant silver chain with a small silver heart. On the back of the heart, it read;  
  
'For My Love  
-Clark'  
  
Looking up to her face, Clark whispered, "This isn't fair . . . Lana, please - wake up. I'm so sorry . . . so, so unbelievably sorry,"  
  
*The next morning at Smallville Medical Center*  
  
"Excuse me, I was told to come here to see my niece?" the beautiful woman said, standing at the desk.  
  
"Who is your niece, ma'am?" the nurse asked, looking up from the computer screen.  
  
"Lana Kent - she was in the explosion yesterday. Can I see her now?"  
  
"What is your name, ma'am? - I need to verify if you are allowed to see her," the nurse questioned.  
  
"Nell Potter. I'm Lana's legal guardian - well, I was until she moved out and got married." The woman, now known as Nell, explained.  
  
The nurse tapped into her computer for a moment, then looked up at Nell. "You may follow me, ma'am," she said, standing. She then led the way through a set of doors and down the same long corridor in the ICU. After she was considered sterile, Nell was allowed into the room in which her niece was being watched over carefully. She walked slowly down the long room, now following a different nurse.  
  
"Here she is. This young man has been here with her since she was brought in. If you need anything, just go to any of the staff working here now," the nurse told her, smiling politely.  
  
A glimmer of a smile crossed Nell's face in thanks, before she then stepped around the curtain. There, she saw Lana lying in the bed, looking like a small child among the startlingly white sheets. Beside her niece sat Clark Kent, who was leant forward with his head placed in his arms, appearing to be asleep. Nell quietly stepped closer to the twosome and gently placed her hand upon Clark's shoulder.  
  
"Clark . . . hey, Clark . . ." she whispered into his ear. Clark mumbled something, but clearly said 'Lana'. Seeing that he wasn't going to be awoken at that, Nell shook him slightly, saying his name a little louder. This time, Clark woke up. Raising his head, he blinked a few times and took in his surroundings.  
  
"No . . . no . . . oh my god, it's not a dream . . . no . . ." he said aloud, seemingly scared.  
  
"Clark - Clark, calm down," Nell said to him.  
  
He turned and looked up at her. "Nell? I mean, Ms. Potter. Wh-what time is it?" he asked, clearly confused.  
  
"It's about 11am, Clark. How are you holding up?" she questioned, still talking quietly as to not disturb any other patients currently in the same wing.  
  
"Umm, I don't know. I can't believe this is happening still - it's just so surreal," Clark replied, looking back at Lana's prone form.  
  
Nell squeezed Clark's hand reassuringly, and suggested they go get coffee or something to eat. Clark hastily agreed, and placed a kiss on Lana's forehead before leaving the room with Nell.  
  
***  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Kent? Anybody home?" Pete called out, standing on the front porch of the Kent home.  
  
It was mid-afternoon, and perfectly suited - the sun was no where in sight. Dark gray clouds rumbled by and a cool wind whipped through the trees and crops in the hushed town of Smallville. Many people had be injured in the disaster just two days earlier - some now deceased; some already home; and some still grasping for life, much like young Lana Kent.  
  
Pete Ross had driven back to Smallville from his current home in Edge City as quickly as he could once the news had reached him. An old friend of his own and his best friend's wife had been seriously hurt in a freak happening in the odd, small town and it was best if he came back soon. And so after arriving in Smallville, Pete went straight to the Kent Farm, knowing if anyone, they would know what was going on.  
  
"Pete! We're in here, come on in," Jonathan said out loudly. Pete followed Mr. Kent's voice, and found his way into the Kent household's living room. There, sat Mrs. Kent. Beside her was Mr. Kent, and it appeared as if his wife had been crying.  
  
"What happened?" Pete asked them, worried now. He quickly took a seat across from the older couple.  
  
"We heard some news from Clark earlier, Pete," Jonathan began.  
  
"He was so . . . different," Martha cut in.  
  
"What do you mean, Mr. Kent? What kind of news was it? What's wrong with Clark?" Pete questioned, a little confused at their previous comments.  
  
"The doctors said that they have to put Lana on life support, Pete. They really don't think she's going to make it much longer," Jonathan explained to him. This statement sparked a heart-wrenching sob from Martha.  
  
"Oh my god. Man, that's not good at all. So how's Clark holding up?" Pete asked them, speaking slowly for he knew too much mention of their son may not be a good thing at that moment, considering the way Martha was acting.  
  
"He's not taking it too well. He left here a few minutes before you arrived to tell us about it. He was so . . . angry, like it was his fault. Yelling, and acting pretty aggressive," Jonathan continued to explain, as he gestured over to the far corner of the room.  
  
It was then that Pete noticed the broken glass vase and few crushed photographs in frames on the floor, the glass littering the area, leaving a small trail around the room as if someone had stepped on the broken pieces. "Oh man . . . " Pete uttered, "Clark did that?"  
  
"Yes - he was so violent. I haven't seen him like that in such a long time," Martha commented, remembering back to the very few times Clark had been under the influence of the red kryptonite back when he was still in high school.  
  
"Where is he now?" Pete asked them, deciding maybe he could try and talk to his friend.  
  
"At the hospital, Pete. Most likely sitting with Lana. Nell was there with him earlier," Jonathan informed him.  
  
"Okay, thanks. I'll go see if I can find him. Take care Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent," Pete told them with a gentle smile, before escorting himself out of the house and to his car.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, Clark man," Pete said as he approached his friend who sat solemnly at a table by himself in the hospital cafeteria. Clark's head rose for a brief moment to see who had called his name.  
  
"Hi, Pete," he answered, before gazing back down to the swirl pattern on the table which had become quite interesting to him lately.  
  
Seeing Clark so reserved, Pete slowed his racy pace down as he then sat across him at the table.  
  
"How you holding up, man?" Pete questioned after a few moments of silence.  
  
"How do you think, Pete? My wife is dying and it's because of me," Clark snapped back at him.  
  
"Whoa, sorry I asked . . . " Pete replied, then continued to look around the large room at the other people mingling about.  
  
Silence occupied the table as the two friends sat - each deep in their own thoughts.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry - I didn't mean for that to come out in that way," Clark eventually said, looking up at Pete.  
  
Pete's gaze stopped wandering around the room, and settled on Clark, who was looking at him with such pain in his eyes. "Hey, don't worry about it, man. I can cut ya a break this time 'round," Pete answered with a genuine smile across his face, in attempt to some how cheer his sorrowful friend up.  
  
A glimmer of a smile crossed Clark's ragged features, and a small "thanks," was said in return.  
  
"How about we get a coffee? My treat," Pete suggested, deciding to change the topic of discussion - well, part-discussion.  
  
"Nah, the stuff here is sludge," Clark answered.  
  
"Oh . . . well umm, how about something else then?" Pete replied, "Maybe they've got soda or juice, or umm . . . something . . . if they don't, well I don't know . . ." he trailed off.  
  
"Okay, Pete," Clark said, this time attempting to quiet his friend's rambling.  
  
The two young men stood, and walked over to the counter. Glancing upon the beverages listed on the wall, Pete came to a conclusion: hospital cafeterias suck. "Well, it looks like we're stuck with sludge, or apple juice. What the heck kind of cafeteria is this?" Pete questioned.  
  
Clark glanced over at his shorter friend and the way his face portrayed an outraged and exasperated look at that moment. "Pete, it's just a drink, no big deal," he said to him.  
  
"No big deal! Of course it's a big deal. I mean, what if someone was for instance allergic to caffeine, or to apples. What would that person drink then? Grease off of those disgusting looking fries over there? This is an outrage to all humanity, I can't believe this - " Pete was suddenly cut off.  
  
"Pete! Calm down already. You're drawing attention to yourself," Clark told him, attempting to hide the smile that he felt creeping across his cheeks.  
  
"Oh well I'll draw attention to myself, alright. The people need to know how poor of beverage choices they will get if they were to order from here. I mean - "  
  
Pete was again cut off by Clark, whom was shooting apologetic looks to the curious and annoyed onlookers and quickly grabbing Pete by the arm and leading him off to the side of the room, out of the line-up.  
  
"Hey, what are you doing? I was trying to prove a point there," Pete questioned, still flustered.  
  
"Pete! For god's sakes. You're making an idiot out of yourself, man," Clark told him.  
  
It was then Pete looked around the room and noticed the people giving him strange looks. A scarce blush crept across his face. "Umm, whoops?" he said quietly.  
  
Seeing his friend acting the way he was after it being made clear to him just what kind of disturbance he had made, Clark couldn't help but laugh. It started in his gut and slowly worked its way up, until the laughter emerged. Laughter - something he hadn't done in way too long.  
  
"Hey, why are you laughing at me, man?" Pete asked, clearly confused. But after watching Clark literally keel over in laughter, Pete couldn't help himself. He began to laugh too. Pretty soon the whole cafeteria watched the two young men as they cracked up over some unknown-to-the-witnesses' happening.  
  
And to Clark, for just that moment, all gloomy thoughts left him as he focused on the humility at Pete's expense. Pete realized this, and gave himself a genuine pat on the back for cheering his friend up - at least for a little bit.  
  
***  
  
A week later, there was still no change in Lana's condition. Pete had to return back to Edge City, and finding that there may not be any change in her niece's current state for a while, Nell was left to go back to Dean in Metropolis. Lex had phoned the Kent household's a few days earlier, giving his brief condolences to the Kent's and to Clark, and saying that he could not come out to Smallville - he was much too busy running LuthorCorp in Metropolis at that time.  
  
As for Clark - things weren't looking too good. He was saying very little, or nothing at all, and neither his parents nor the doctors could separate him from Lana's bedside. Lana had been moved to a regular, but private room out of the ICU, per Lex's influence.  
  
It was night and the daytime doctors for that particular floor had mostly finished their shifts. As the daytime doctor for Lana was leaving, and her nighttime one arrived, the two men spoke in the hall outside of her room.  
  
"So, how is she doing?" Dr. Williams, the night shift doctor, questioned.  
  
"No change yet," Dr. Klein replied.  
  
"Is that young man still with her?"  
  
"Yes, he's a very persistent individual," Dr. Williams noted.  
  
"That he is. Poor guy, his heart's going to be broken fairly soon,"  
  
"Yeah, her body can't survive much longer like this. A few days from now at the most," Dr. Klein stated sadly.  
  
"I would estimate about that, myself. It's sad - always the young ones," Dr. Williams declared, a hint of sorrow in his voice.  
  
"Yes, that is true. So very, very true," Dr. Klein replied. The two men both bowed their heads in silence, thinking about the next young life that they were about to lose.  
  
***  
  
The next few days passed by in a blur to Clark. Time seemed to slowly go by, but he had no real sense of anything around him. Just the same routine over and over. Get up, quickly get ready, be at the hospital by visiting hours and stay as late that night he could with Lana, then return home, and spend the night tossing and turning, until morning when he'd do it again. Those days slowly turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.  
  
It was now September, and while young kids got ready for school, young adults had returned back to college or university for their new semester, and the town of Smallville was beginning to harvest their crops, Clark continued to spend each day with a miraculously still alive, but comatose Lana. She had been moved up to the top floor of Smallville Medical Center, which was a place for long-term patients such as her. The doctors and nurses on this floor all knew of Clark. Occasionally they would bring him lunch, or other small items. And they would always greet him and attempt to speak with him when they saw him at the hospital. But Clark didn't pay attention to them, nor speak to them. He would just flow through the movements that had become familiar with him. For it was himself, that which he blamed for Lana's current condition. It was he whom had crushed her into the pavement on that fateful day. He didn't even blame the man who had truly been responsible for the terrorist attack of sorts against the owner of the bookstore. No, for Clark - it was his entire fault. And because of it, he barely ate, slept, nor did much of anything other than sit with his wife.  
  
Martha and Jonathan had attempted to break through the fierce wall Clark had built around himself. But that attempt had only ended in causing more problems. The Kent's could still clearly remember the day in which Clark had lashed out at them. Saying that there was no way they could help Lana; that they weren't his real parents anyway; and that they should just stay out of his life from then on. Jonathan and Martha had at first resisted; they did not want to be apart from their son. But when Clark had continued to shout at them, they had no choice but to stop questioning him, and to leave it at that until later on.  
  
Now, a couple weeks after that first confrontation, Jonathan and Martha decided to attempt getting through to Clark again. It was mid-afternoon, and while doctors checked over Lana, Clark was out in the hallway waiting for them to finish. It was then, that the Kent's began their 'attack' of sorts.  
  
"Clark, we need to speak with you," Jonathan said as he approached their adopted alien son with his wife. Clark glanced up, and a glimmer of recognition crossed his face, before he turned the opposite way in which they had been coming.  
  
"Son, we're very serious. How about we go outside and speak in the courtyard," Jonathan said to him, more as an order, than a question.  
  
"No, I can't leave Lana," Clark said, looking at the door to her room.  
  
"Lana can wait, Clark. Let's go," Martha spoke up.  
  
Exhausted as per normal as of late, Clark trudged along with them down the elevator and out into the bright, fall day. The three of them walked along for a bit - the oranges, reds, and yellows of the autumn trees beginning to show - until they stopped at a bench a bit off to the side of the main path.  
  
"Well, what is it?" Clark asked with a hint of frustration in his voice, once the three of them had sat down on the bench. Clark on the left side, Martha in the middle, and Jonathan on the right.  
  
"We spoke with the doctors earlier, Clark. I'm sure that they have told you the same, but we wanted to make sure you made the correct decision," Jonathan explained. Clark was quiet, silently telling his parents to go on.  
  
"It's a known fact that Lana has been on life support for two months now. The doctors don't predict that she will gain ever gain consciousness, son - but we're sure you already knew that, whether you wanted to or not," Martha said to him.  
  
"What are you getting at?" Clark demanded. He had felt the constant pang of guilt and pain worsen as his mother spoke of Lana's current predicament, and was now doing what he had been often lately; pushing the pain deep inside and not showing anyone - especially his parents - that he actually felt it.  
  
"Clark, we don't want you to take this the wrong way," Jonathan began.  
  
"But we honestly believe that it would be best if you were to sign the papers and take Lana off of the life support," Martha continued.  
  
"No!" Clark objected loudly, standing up from the bench, "I will never do that. Lana is my wife, and I will not harm her more than I already have. No, no - it's out of the question!"  
  
"Clark, you have to understand - it's the only way. Her body will never be able to function on its own. Keeping her on those machines like this will only injure her more. Even if by some miracle she was to wake up sometime soon, the damage to her brain would be very substantial. Is it really worth it?" Jonathan practically pleaded with his son, both he and his wife still seated on the bench be fore him.  
  
Clark was silent - contemplating his father's words. Of coarse he had heard it all before from the doctors, but it hadn't really sunk in until now. Finally, he answered; "Yes, it is worth it. Because she is my wife, and I love her. She's my whole life; the very reason for my existence, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that she survives this,"  
  
Now it was Martha and Jonathan's time to be silent. Lost, and without anything meaningful to say, the older couple greeted their son farewell, and left him in the courtyard.  
  
The colourful leaves fell and floated around Clark as he stood there, the early autumn wind blowing them softly down to the ground. These leaves used to be such a vibrant, bright green, much like Lana with her happy, upbeat, energetic personality. But now the leaves had turned to dark shades of browns, yellows, and oranges - the cheery colours, no more. But in time, those colours would return, and the leaves would flourish back into their lively bright green. Could the same happen for the young life, which continued to hang in the balance between life . . . and death.  
  
***  
  
His footsteps echoed throughout the long, dimly lit corridor as he slowly passed by the many rooms in which loved ones sat with the critically ill or injured and where the outcome would be miraculous or tragic.  
  
In Lana Kent's case it was tragic. And it was her young husband Clark who was left to deal with it. It was he who walked solemnly down the hall of Smallville Medical Center's extended stay wing after having a final discussion with one of her doctors. Down the hall, to her room . . . or what had once been hers.  
  
Clark stopped be fore the door of the now-empty hospital room. The room was very tidy; bed long been remade, floor swept spotless - ready to take on its next unfortunate victim. So much of his time had been spent there in that room. Months on end, sitting by his wife's bedside. Hoping, wishing, begging, praying - for her to regain consciousness, to be back to her fun- loving, cheery self . . . to say that she loved him and forgave him for his actions.  
  
Those actions. The ones that he believed locked Lana's untimely fate into place. And whether everyone else thought he to be at fault or not, Clark knew. He knew it was because of him.  
  
Forcefully blinking tears back, he looked once more upon the room in which Lana Kent had breathed last.  
  
***  
  
The face. A solid appearance, masking the grief and despair. The eyes, a stone cover presented over deep pain and longing within. Shoulders broad, back straight - he stood firm, unmoving.  
  
A light snow fell softly across the golgotha in the slightly frigid winter weather, leaving crisp flakes upon the ground and those who stood on it. Gathered around one main location in the cemetery was a group in which all mourned the loss of one of Smallville's finest.  
  
A young woman who was so full of life, always willing to help those in need and making it so others were happy despite such past tragedy in her own life. Lang Kent, previously known as Lana Lang, was the girl who all the mothers wanted their sons to date, the gal that all the guys wanted to grasp attention from, and the young woman who had touched the lives of so many. Most especially that of Clark Kent.  
  
Lana and Clark had only married some few short years before the grasps of death beckoned upon them, ripping away in the most devastating of ways. They weren't deserving of such tragedy. Simply a young couple of former high school sweethearts, adulthood husband and wife. They had never made any wrong doings - always righting rights and living life to the fullest. Their love for one another was intangible - written in the stars, destined now and always, love eternal.  
  
And now, as the casket was lowered into the ground, their lives officially parted. With each shovel-full of dirt that was strewn atop, it was like a blow to Clark's heart. He would never see his Lana again. They would never have the children they had both always dreamed about and have a family of their own, never experience growing old together. But Clark's love for her would still live on - always strong, not to diminish in the least. And as the snowflakes fell, Clark reflected on that ever-lasting love and the many good times they spent together.  
  
~~~flashback~~~  
  
"What's the matter, Clark?" she questioned, noticing her fiancé appearing to be lost in his own world.  
  
"Nothing," he replied quietly as the two lay on the bed in their home together late one night just weeks after their engagement.  
  
"Come on now, we promised each other that we wouldn't keep any more secrets from one another. Tell me what's got you so glum Mr. Kent," Lana worried.  
  
Clark sighed in response. "It's just that I still can't believe you said yes. I know should be proud because I'm the luckiest guy in the world that Lana Lang answered 'yes' when I asked for her hand in marriage, but yet I don't think I'm worth it . . . I'm not deserving of you, Lana," he finally answered, his voice wavering a bit.  
  
A look of admiration crossed Lana's angelic features. "Oh, Clark. Is that all? If anything I don't deserve you, definitely not the other way around. You're the man of my dreams, and nothing is ever going to change that. Even when I found out about . . . well, you and your you know . . . it never changed the way I feel about you. How much I love you," she replied with a smile.  
  
A look of relief was shown on Clark's face. "Thanks," he smiled, "I love you too, more than you'll ever know,"  
  
"Good, because I've got some ideas in mind for this wedding of ours. Okay, I was thinking we'd go with white lilies --"  
  
"Lana . . ." Clark interrupted.  
  
"Oh, Clark. Let me finish," she teased to him, mock seriousness on her face. "Anyway, we should have candles - lots of them . . ."  
  
Clark laughed as she went on. That was his Lana, all right.  
  
~~~end of flashback~~~  
  
As the crowd dispersed, Clark was left standing in the cold. Looking up into the gray sky, he saw a few clouds suddenly retreat and through the opening the sun appeared. For a moment, the snow stopped and bright sunlight shone down upon as if a sign. A sign that his love was still up there somewhere, watching over him, as only she could. Because tragic or not, their love still existed and it would continue to, day after day after day.  
  
The End 


End file.
